Ryodan was suddenly in my space. I bristled and tried to wheel away from him but he pulled me up from the chair and into his arms.

I snapped.

Something exploded inside me, larger and more violent than even the pressure behind that damned fragile dam that had made me tell him too much, and I attacked him like a wild animal. I threw punches and kicks, cursing up a storm, calling him names, calling myself names, raging at the universe for being such a grand shit to me. I railed and ranted. I picked up my chair and smashed it to smithereens across my knee. I shattered his and stomped it to bits then turned on his desk, that stupid fucking desk that a powerful man like him didn’t belong behind, and cracked it down the middle.

When I turned my fury to the walls, he got in my way, wouldn’t let me drive my fists through them. I wanted broken glass. I wanted blood. I wanted something else to hurt besides my heart. I needed the distraction of physical pain.

I’d been holding in so much for so long that I couldn’t keep a lid on it anymore. I hammered at him and he just took it, let me keep hitting him like some unbreakable Ironman, swing after swing. Catching my blows in his hands, other times just shaking off punches lethal enough to stop a human’s heart, watching me the whole time with a fierce, intense gaze.

My fury vanished with such abruptness that I deflated like a popped inner tube.

And there was nothing left but what I’d been trying to escape all this time—pain.

I went motionless, staring up at him through a tangle of curls that had escaped from my ponytail, opened my mouth to apologize and all that came out was a long, unending wail.

He put his arms around me and I sank into them.

Ryodan’s arms. Around me.

So strange.

So strong. Invincible.

This man had always been my nemesis, my punching bag, my rival. But he wasn’t now and I was beginning to wonder if he ever had been.

I leaned into him the way I leaned into Dancer, put my head in the crook of his neck and cried against his chest like a storm breaking loose, until his crisp white shirt was damp and wrinkled. And somewhere along the way, I started to laugh because I’d gotten snot all over the crisp, flawless Ryodan and turned him into a crumpled mess and I found that insanely funny. Then I was crying again until there was nothing left, and I was exhausted and quiet in his arms for a time, listening to the impossibly slow thud of his heart.

“Can you help me rescue Shazam?” I said finally.

He stiffened and my heart sank like a stone to the bottom of that hated lake that separated me from Shazam.

I drew back and looked at him.

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his gaze shadowed by sorrow. “If you’d told me this as soon as you got back, yes. But Dani, we don’t have enough time now.”

“How long would it take?” I cried, anguished.

“Impossible to predict. I’d have to go through, figure out how far from Earth Planet X is and how many mirrors I’d need to stack to create a tunnel. It’s complicated. I’d have to die to get back out. The biggest variable is how long it takes me to get back from dying. And between the IFPs and the black holes, I’d have to go about it very carefully.”

“You mean it’s not, like, a three-day resurrection or something?”

His gaze shuttered. “I don’t talk about this.”

I said impatiently, “Ryodan, we both know if you were going to kill me, you would have done it a long time ago. I hacked your security cams. I saw you turn into the beast. I know your secrets and you know mine. That’s as close to family as you can get.”

“I haven’t even begun to plumb your secrets,” he said. “And you didn’t hack them. Your boy genius did. We found the calling card he left.”

“He left a bloody calling card?” He hadn’t told me that! I was furious that he’d taken such a ridiculous chance, but then I started to smile. That was my Dancer. No fear. I loved him for that.

Ryodan flinched, and I got the impression he’d just heard me think that. And apparently I’d been right, he didn’t like the thought of me caring about someone we both knew could die any day. My smile vanished because I despised myself.

If I’d told Ryodan as soon as I’d returned, if I’d trusted him, he could have helped me rescue Shazam. Assuming my testy, adorable beast was alive, he’d be here with me right now.

I’d blown it.

R-E-G-R-E-T. I can spell that word now. Raw. Endless. Grief. Raining. Eternal. Tears. That’s what regret is.

“You had no reason to trust anyone, Dani,” he murmured. “And every reason not to.”

“Yes, I did have a reason, and a big one—trusting would have saved him,” I said bitterly.

“You’re not allowed to beat yourself up. Only I get that privilege,” he said, and I smiled faintly with brittle humor.

“Can’t you mark the Silver from this side?” I hated the way my voice broke on the words. That was what I’d spent the majority of my time seeking—a spell to etch a symbol on the mirror that would show on the other side, guaranteeing we could find our way home. We’d have to be fast to hit the right Silver, but Shazam and I were speed demons. Still, if I hadn’t searched, if I’d only trusted and asked…If only. I got it now. Why people got so fucked up as they grew older. Impossible choices, impossible trade-offs; each erosion had a price you carried in your heart forever.

“Barrons and I tried to devise a way to do that for a long time, with no success. You said they caged him. It’s been decades. Do you really believe he’s still there and alive?”